


Long Live The King

by missmishka



Series: Bond/Q/Toys [4]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Play, Barebacking, Bickering, D/s elements, I've stop blushing at what my Q muses do, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sex Toys, Use of unrealistically large dildo, domestic shmoop, smut smut smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It is obscene to even look upon it, yet Q cannot look away.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Q cannot resist the lure of King Dong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit. No beta, all errors are my own and will be corrected as soon as noted or noticed. (First half should be ok because I worked over it a few days, the last half, though, kind of blazed through in a couple of hours so likely riddled with errors because I'm too greedy for feedback to take care with the editing.)
> 
> Do NOT try this at home.

It is obscene to even look upon it, yet Q cannot look away.

It stands on its own on the dresser; a big, purple cock thrusting imperiously into the air and daring Q to touch it.

Q sits on the edge of the bed staring at the thing with a mixture of reverence and revulsion. 

 _King Dong_.

The title is ridiculous and the color and size of the thing make it all seem a gag gift to be laughed over then put aside, but Q has yet to laugh at it or put it from his thoughts.

If James is to be believed, and Q has little reason to doubt him in this matter, that dildo is intended for insertion and is _“immensely”_ pleasurable to be penetrated by.

From day one, Q’s mind has boggled at the idea of that; of anyone, especially James, fucking themselves with such a toy. 

These days, though, little surprises him about James and toys.  Q’s only surprise is at himself for how he has taken to experimenting with the contents of James’s toy chest. 

That chest has somehow ended up in Q’s apartment and with James assigned to a security detail for a global summit, Q has the flat and all the toys to himself for the night.  He’s known this to be coming for over a week now and had prepared accordingly.  This morning he’d encouraged James to insert the largest plug that he had in Q’s arse to ‘keep him ready’ for James’s return and Q had spent the day with that lodged in his arse thinking of how much more he’d be taking into himself when he got home to play with the King.

His curiosity had to be satisfied.

He has to know for himself that it is actually possible to take that monstrosity inside.

His impetuous has carried him home from the office to strip down to his boxers and pull out the necessary supplies before he carefully withdraws the dildo from the bottom drawer of the chest.  The weight and jelly feel of it is unreal, he placed it upon the dresser on some unknown whim then moved to stare at the thing as it just sat there on its artificial bollocks challenging Q to carry on. 

It isn’t the first time that he’s had it out, James has encouraged him to explore all the toys and is openly amused at Q’s fascination with the King, but they’ve yet to actually bring it out for use.  Q has cleaned it; learning the smooth, rubbery feel of the fake cock and he has measured it, but that is all. 

It is a daunting fifteen inches from tip to base, but nearly three inches of that is a rectangular base molded to give the illusion of scrotum at the bottom of the foot long shaft.   That length is certainly doable with some extra care, but with the girth added to the mix it boggles to think of fucking the thing.  The head starts at a relatively normal inch and a half in smoothly rounded diameter then slopes quickly over a span of just two and a half inches to a staggering six inches around the thickest furl of the glans.  The shaft is not a perfect circle, it has an oval shape too it; slightly elongated from the top to the undersides of the shaft.  Near the base, it is almost two and a half inches wide and exactly seven point five-four inches in circumference.  That kind of girth can be taken at once; the plug currently in his arse is eight inches around at the thickest curve of the bed knob shaped design, but it is only four inches long. 

The thought of taking something as substantial as that even deeper into himself is daunting.

He honestly doesn’t know if he can do _this_ without James, but he doesn’t want to suggest it then be unable to follow through.  He knows James wouldn’t mind that, they ‘tested’ toys all the time with some notable failures like the laughable experience with a palm pal masturbator and the discomforting experience with a triangular shaped dildo that had been Q’s idea because of the sci-fi swordplay on the packaging. 

They were working out so far, so good because of their openness to keep exploring and pushing and learning and enjoying one another.  Any bumps along the way were taken in stride, which surprised Q for both James’s reactions as well as his own ease at reaching compromise with the man. 

Outside of work, that is; at the office they still manage to butt heads on more than one occasion over mission equipment and Q’s specialized technology.  Q often thinks the bickering is mere foreplay for when they get the chance to be alone with James’s preferred devices.

Q _wants_ to take the whole of this dildo inside himself and he needs to prove that he can do it with or without James.  He is opting to try the without first.

Shaking off his thoughts and doubts, he takes a deep breath and pushes up from the bed.  He walks past the dresser with a slight stutter in his step as the plug in his arse shifts, but he doesn’t look at the dildo awaiting him.

He flicks the light on and catches a glimpse of his flushed features in the mirror as he pushes the elastic waist of his underwear down to mid-thigh to expose his arse.  Bathrooms always seem a bit chill and goose bumps raise on his skin at the exposure to the coolness as he widens his stance as much as the material will allow. 

He bends over the counter, reaching back with his left hand to pry is cheeks apart while the fingers of his right hand find the base of the butt plug and curl to slowly withdraw the toy.  His body resists the removal and he shudders at the immediate feeling of a gaping emptiness once he’s withdrawn the device.  He resists the urge just then to finger himself to see how much his hole has been stretched by having the plug inside him the whole day.

With the care that he is learning from James, Q turns on the taps and gives the toy a good wash before setting it on a towel on the counter to dry.  He locates the bottle of lubricant that they keep in here and he pops the cap single-handedly to squeeze some out into his other palm.  He deftly replaces the cap then puts the bottle back in place before he flattens his chest against the counter and shifts his legs as far back and apart as he can. 

He holds himself open with one hand then reaches around to smear the glob of lube over his hole before he brings his fingers into play.  His anus is not the tight pucker that he’s used to and his fingers tickle around the inside of the stretched rim to both spread slickness and explore the sensitized opening.  He presses his forehead against the counter, dislodging his glasses as he breathes for calm and tries not to get off on the feel of his own fingers playing in his arse.

Once the lube is spread as much as he can manage, he reluctantly pulls his hands away to wash them in the sink before he snaps his boxers back into place, fills a bowl with warm soapy water, collects a washrag and towel then moves from the room to place the items on the nightstand beside his bed.  He collects a condom and lube from the stand before moving to the dresser to stare the dildo down.

“Let’s do this, then, shall we?” he says more to himself than to the inanimate object, but he does not deny that he is also speaking to the fake penis.

The thing has far too much _presence_ to be treated as inconsequential.

With a deliberate motion, he strips away his underwear then picks the thing up, cradling it against his arm and marveling at how the length measures against his forearm.  As he settles back on the bed, his hand curls over the bulbous head and he stares; comparing the size of tip to the breadth of his hand and thinking how similar in size his fist is.  His fingers flex with the want to curl into a fist for visual comparison.  He does not do that, though, because if he thinks of this _thing_ fucking James and then Q thinks of his fist he knows his mind with make the leap to _his **fist** fucking _James and that’s another fantasy that Q hasn’t quite worked up to sharing just yet.

He tears open a packet to unroll a condom over the length of the toy.  He doubts that the rubber will stay on the slick, smooth surface of the dildo as it begins to almost immediately curl back up, but he knows that using the protection is wise with a shared sexual device.  He moves to the center of the bed with lube in one hand and the King in the other as he pulls up some pillows to rest back against.  He draws his legs up, feet braced on the bed and spread slightly more than shoulder’s width apart then he pops the lid on the bottle to dispense more lube to coat the substantial length of the cock. 

Once it’s practically dripping with lubricant, he puts the bottle aside and moves the dildo between his legs.  The monstrosity dwarfs his own penis and Q can’t help but marvel at the discrepancy in size.  James has had them both inside him yet even after taking something as large as the King he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the more realistic portions of Q’s cock. 

He smirks a bit smugly at that, thinking to the truth of the adage that it isn’t the size that matters, but how one uses it.  Q has gotten damned good at using his, you’re welcome very much, Mr. Bond.

His gaze turns thoughtful after a moment as he considers the fake cock thrusting at him.  On his back, he can better control the depth and pace of the insertion of most of the dildo, but the angle would be tricky for the whole length and things tended to slide in more easily the first time when he’s on his hands and knees. 

 

After a moment’s hesitation, he takes off his glasses to put safely aside before he rolls over to assume that position.  He steadies himself on his shoulders and uses both hands to position the dildo under him. 

The tip bumps against Q’s cock and balls before pressing against his hole.  He wriggles against the pressure, considers shifting his grip to raise the thing up to thrust into him, but finds perhaps a better idea to be pushing down while holding the dildo steady.  He inhales slowly, drawing the breath deeply into his lungs to hold it as he swivels his hips downward until the large head pops into his arse.

“Well, now, this is a pretty sight.”

Q stops dead at the sound of James’s voice and hopes like hell that he’s imagined it.

“Don’t stop on my account,” the bed dips in accompaniment of the drawled words.

Q yanks his hands away, hissing out his breath as the head pops back out before he drops the dildo to the bed in his mortification.

“You’re supposed to be guarding the PM!”

He rolls to grab his glasses back and jam them on to confirm that the man is indeed sitting upon the bed.

“Mallory very kindly asked me to leave,” James is the picture of innocence as he picks up the abandoned toy.

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing.  That brash American Secret Serviceman guarding the Secretary of State, on the other hand…let’s just say that he tripped.”

“Must all of your detail assignments end in brawls?” Q huffs out a laugh, shaking his head with a silent thanks that such assignments were not under the purview of Q Branch.

“Must they assign me to such boring duties?  A license to kill is hardly put to good use by babysitting dignitaries.”

“Every day does not have to be life and death, James,” Q murmurs, secretly glad whenever the orders came down for such a mundane task for the man to perform.  “Enjoy the variety.”

“Is that what this is?” James’s brow quirks curiously from the dildo in his hands to Q’s very naked body.  “Are _you_ enjoying the variety without me?”

There’s a tone to his voice that Q can’t quite read; perhaps amused, perhaps petulant with a subtle bite that makes Q actually feel guilty.  He squirms under James’s stare, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap and trying to think of a proper answer before he opens his mouth and babbles some kind of apology that he really should not owe because James has told him time and again that he should consider the toy chest and all contents community property for the duration.

“I just wanted to see if I could take it all, like you did,” he settles on, weakly.

“You expect to take all of that up your tight little arse?” James puts the toy aside and shifts to lean over Q, worming his hand under the pillow to locate the curve of Q’s arse.  “Do you forget how much effort it takes to open you up for my cock?”

His words are a breath against Q’s mouth and he opens it to kiss the man, but James gives his thigh a sharp slap and pushes away from the bed with a laugh. He undoes the bow of his tie and drops the black strip of material to the dresser before added his gold cufflinks and company watch.

“If you did it then I-“ Q rubs distractedly at his stinging flesh.

“I never said that I took it all, Q,” James shakes his head in amusement and begins to slip out of his black tuxedo.  “Have you seen the size of that thing?”

“But you said-”

“I’ve inserted it, don’t get me wrong,” his fingers move proficiently to unbutton and remove his white dress shirt.  “Took a good few inches in and that was more than enough to get me off at the time.”

Q blinks at this revelation and his mind adjusts to the disappointment of having been misled at the extent of James’s progress with the dildo.  Then he blinks again as his mind locks on a way to restore the images that have filled his head since James had originally said – _implied_ , rather - that he’s taken the whole thing in.

“Do you think you could take it all?”

James pauses in the process of hanging his shirt and jacket back up in the closet.  He casts a glance at the toy then at Q before he puts the garments away.

“I’m sure I could,” he replies carefully as his hands go to unfasten his dress pants to remove and hang them up as well.

“Would you like to try?”

“I rather thought that that’s what you were up to,” James muses as he moves back to the bed in only his silken boxers.  “All slicked up and ready to sit on it.”

He moves to press against Q’s side, nipping at his ear as he tosses Q’s pillow aside.  Q turns into the man’s mouth and opens to give him a proper welcome home kiss after a day apart.  He breaks away with a gasping groan as James pushes two fingers into his arse.

“You should feel how open you are,” James’s voice is a growl in Q’s ear as his fingers twist and curl in the loosened opening of Q’s hole.

“I did,” Q confesses with a groan as he shifts to straddle James’s thigh.  “I bent over the bathroom sink,” he expands with details because James _loves_ such details, “and pulled out the plug you put in me,” he begins to rut against the silky material of James’s underwear.  “I gave that a good wash then slicked myself up to take this thing in.  I had four fingers from both hands inside me and I could have taken more,” he breathes against James’s ear before biting the lobe.  “I wanted more,” he moves his head to bite and lave at the man’s throat.  “Wanted your fingers,” he thrusts back against James’s hand as two fingers become three inside him, “wanted your cock,” he worms his hand in through the opening in the front of the boxers to wrap around the familiar thickness of James’s shaft. 

“Do you still want it?” James gives a thrust into Q’s grasp while pulling him closer with a deeper push of his fingers.

“Always,” Q groans against the man’s mouth, grinding against his thigh for the delicious friction against his cock to go with the press of fingers inside him.

“Do you want it before or after?”

“Before or after what?” Q asks without lifting his head from the path that he’s nipping down James’s neck.

“The dildo,” James stretches his fingers wide to push at the rim of Q’s arse until he gasps.

“I don’t think I can take it,” Q chokes out when those fingers suddenly pull out.

“I think you can,” James flips him on to his back then moves into the sprawl of his thighs.  “You’ve prepared yourself so well.”

Q looks down the length of his torso to watch as James puts his hands between Q’s legs and pushes his cheeks apart.  He shivers as James traces his rim with the callus-roughened pads of his thumbs before he pushes them both in to pull the hole open.  James’s gaze is focused on Q’s opening in a way that would be embarrassing were it not for the heated intensity of those eyes.

“How long have you been planning it?” he flexes his thumbs, curling then straightening them to stretch Q further.  “Choosing that plug this morning and moaning like a harlot as I worked it into your arse; that was part of it?  Planning ahead to me being out for the night so you could play with the King, not using the plug as a placeholder for when I got home?”

He’s tsking playfully, but his tone again leaves Q squirming with guilt.

“Christ, James, you make it sound like some sordid affair,” Q chokes out.  “It’s a toy.  I do believe you’ve been encouraging me to spend more time playing with them.”

“Some, though,” James bends over him and bites sharply at his neck, “are meant only when we’re together.  You didn’t think I’d want to see that thing slide into you?”

“As much as I would like to see you fucking it, I’m sure,” Q wraps a hand around the back of James skull and holds him close to encourage another bite.  “I wasn’t sure I could manage and I thought,” he breaks off to gasp at the nip to his Adam’s apple, “I thought we’d both be disappointed if we tried and I couldn’t.  Had I known, though,” his fingers grip the short blonde hairs at the nape of James’s neck and he pulls to look the man in the eyes; “that _you_ hadn’t taken it all then I would have planned this with you.”

“So it’s my fault, then?” James rears back with an arch expression.

 _Most always,_ Q thinks with a barely withheld scoff.

“If I hadn’t been trying to impress you…” he deliberately trails off.

“You can still impress me,” James pulls back and locates the dildo.  “Take more of it than I did; take **_all_** _of it_ ; and I will be quite impressed.”

“Will that be all I receive?  Your admiration?” Q flicks a gaze at the King in James’s hand; his apprehension returning at the way the man smacks the head of the jelly cock against his palm.

“You did make it sound like that’s all you wanted,” James begins to arrange Q on the bed as he had originally thought to do this, lying on his back, legs spread and upraised with his feet braced on the mattress.  “Was there something more?”

His hands stroke deliberately down the insides of Q’s thighs, the bastard knowing how sensitive that expanse was to such touching. 

“Yes,” he bucks upward as the backs of James’s hands bracket his cock to tease it before he turns direction and strokes back up to Q’s knees.  “I want to watch you fuck it.  If I take it, so can you; especially as you’d led me to believe that you already _had._ ”

“You’re hardly in a position to bargain,” James trails his hands back down and allows his fingers to trace the crease where Q’s legs and pelvis join.

“Not bargaining,” he splays his legs wider and bucks upward to encourage the bastard to touch his cock.  “Just saying.  I’m going to take it now, we’ve established that and that you want to watch.  You can hardly look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want to fuck it all yourself after seeing me with it and you’ll want me to be there working it in for you; watching you wiggle and moan for it like a whore.”

The image is so real Q’s eyes drift shut and he can practically feel himself screwing the dildo into James’s arse.  He can hear those grunts and groans and pants and long drawn out moans that escape James when he’s really into the fucking that he’s receiving.  Q slides a hand down his torso to curl around his cock and stroke it as his eyes slowly open to stare at the star of his fantasy. 

“I recommend you do me now or you’d best get into position because I’ll be shoving it up yours,” he declares, the words little more than a husky purr as he thumbs the slick head of his own prick.

“You do make it hard for a man to pick just one option,” James swats his hand aside then bends to snag a quick kiss.

He sits back on his heels before Q can hold their mouths together for more than a second.  He stares for a moment, those lush lips puckering in thought in a way that never fails to drive any and all thoughts from Q’s mind other than the want to kiss the man. 

After a moment, he shifts to reach under Q’s side of the bed to drag out the bed rest pillow that Q uses whenever he’s got his laptop in bed.  James calls the pillow Q’s throne and always handles it with a fond care despite all his joking whenever he sees Q propped up by it.  Q knows they both think back to that first meeting and Q’s comment about the damage that he can do in his pajamas with his laptop, because they each know that he would surely be using this pillow to be comfortable while typing in whatever commands he used to conquer the world.

James doesn’t tuck the pillow behind Q’s back, though, he hooks both of Q’s legs over his shoulder and pushes back to lift Q’s hips up from the bed until James can fit the wedged cushion under him.  He angles it so that it elevates Q’s hips then he arranges Q’s legs to the outside of each of the pillow’s arms to spread his thighs open and keep them that way with the pillow’s help.

“How’s that feel?”

Q shifts a bit to straighten his spine out some and rest more comfortably on the pillows under his head and shoulders then gives a nod to convey that he’s good to go.

“If ever I was going to record you,” James murmurs almost absently with an appreciative look over Q’s carefully positioned body. 

Q isn’t sure how to take the words, but the expression in the man’s eyes adds to his own arousal until he’s reaching for his cock again.

“Hands off,” James tsks, taking hold of his wrist and lowering Q’s arm deliberately to the mattress.

Q obeys the command underlying the chiding words and he lays both his arms loosely at his sides, curling his hands into the covers to keep them from reaching again.

James gets another condom and the bottle of lube to have at hand.  He takes off the condom on the dildo and replaces it with the new one as the other has been tossed about the bedding too much.  He slicks the freshly sheathed toy, the act requiring both his hands to encircle the full girth of the artificial cock. 

Q’s fingers twitch in the covers at the sight of those hands pumping up and down the big, purple length.  It should be an absurd thing to watch, but it’s actually arousing to a nearly unbearable degree when added to all the other stimulation that Q has received.

Once he’s slicked the toy well enough, or once he’s decided Q has whimpered and squirmed enough, James puts a bit more lube on his fingers and plays them around the slackened muscle of Q’s hole.

“Tell me to stop if you can’t take anymore,” he instructs before lifting the dildo.

The raised angle of his pelvis gives Q a clear view of the show as James’s hands guide the head into position.  His hips jolt almost instinctively at the press of the head against his bung and he digs his fingers in as James applies a firm pressure to drive the tip inside.  His hole opens easily over the smooth tip and the head pops in smoothly with his sphincter automatically clenching closed around the shaft under the curl of the glans; both to hold in and deter the intruder.

James hums appreciatively at the tightening of Q’s arse and he pauses to move a hand to stroke a slick finger around the stretched pucker of his hole.  His other hand gives the dildo a slight twist causing Q to gasp and arch at the barrage of sensations, the prod and twirl of the bulbous head inside him and the gentle touch of James’s fingers.  The buck of his hips drives another inch of the shaft into his arse and he shudders as the ridge of the glans rakes over his channel.

James moves his stroking fingers to Q’s abdomen, petting over Q’s happy trail for a moment before he presses his palm flat against the skin to push down and hold Q’s hips against the pillow.

He waits for Q to settle down before he gives the dildo a slight pull backward before screwing it forward until a good quarter of the length is buried in Q.  His thumb stroking soothingly over Q’s abdomen while he maintains his anchoring hold to keep Q from moving as he’d like to; from bucking up to force more in and squirming back to get away from what he’s already taken.

Q draws a shaky breath and forces his fingers to ease up their grip on the bedding as James repeats the slow withdraw.  When the glans catches on the inside of his rim and his body tightens in resistance at a full withdrawal, James reverses direction and Q exhales slowly while his hands fist in the covers.  His eyes squeeze shut as his head arches backward to press into the pillows as the thick length shoves in to drag over the inner knot of his prostate. 

He hears James murmuring something likely to be encouragement as his breath pants in and out while James plays with the angle of the toy for the head to jam up against that sensitive knot.  A keening noise escapes him as the man withdraws a few inches of the toy with a twisting motion before he shoves it back in deeper.  His shoulders and feet dig into the mattress with the want to buck up into the thrust as his thighs shake from the tension of staying spread when their instinct is to close against the sensations.

“Just look at you,” James presses a kiss to the inside of Q’s knee.  “You’ve got more than half in you,” he moves the hand from Q’s stomach to go back to caressing his stretched arse.  “This is as far as I got,” his thumb pushes at Q’s pucker alongside the dildo like he means to push the finger in as well.  “I think you’re going to manage it all.”

“Nnngh,” is all Q can manage, if the noise he makes is even that coherent.

He hears the familiar click of the lube cap, but can’t bring himself to open his eyes and look at what James is doing.  He hears the slap of a hand spreading the slickness over the dildo and feels the bump of James’s hand against his arse to indicate that the man is adding more gel to the length of toy still to be inserted.

“I’m going all in,” James warns as the cap clicks back on the lube.  “Relax and push out for me.”

Q takes the warning to heart and tenses briefly before forcing his body as loose and limber as he can manage with half a tree limb up his arse and the other half waiting to join it.  He feels the slight draw back of James’s hand that will precede the final impaling thrust and he pushes to meet the inward thrust as it begins.

The pressure is firm and steady, neither fast nor slow as the dildo moves deeper and deeper then somehow manages to go deeper still.  Q is shuddering on the brink of crying out for it to stop when he feels the lumps of the dildo’s artificial balls pressing up against his own bollocks. 

“Christ,” James breathes out against the inside of Q’s knee before he kisses it again.  “It’s all in,” he moves his free hand to stroke over Q’s thighs and stomach.  “You’ve got it all inside you,” the hand holding the base of the dildo twists to grind the toy in and Q cries out at the way it stretches him out inside. 

“Shh,” he shifts a thigh between Q’s legs and positions it against the bottom of the toy to hold it in place and free up both his hands.  He caresses Q’s body, drawing attention to how tautly Q is holding himself.  His hand goes to Q’s cock which has flagged at the discomfort of the insertion and he curls his fingers around it to stroke Q back to full hardness.

“You ready to ride it now?” his voice is the devil’s own after Q’s soul.

“Yes,” Q hisses the word out, writhing up into those gripping fingers and grinding down against the thick base of the shaft lodged deep inside him.

James shifts away, much to Q’s regret, and puts his hands back on the dildo.  He grips the base and pulls it outward, rolls it in his hands until the balls are upside down then he jams the few inches withdrawn back into Q.  There’s enough force behind the thrust that Q’s hips bounce on the pillow.

On the next withdrawal, James pulls more out and shoves it back in faster, making Q and the pillow shift on the bed.  Q’s scrambles for a better grip on the bedding and babbles nonsense as James _screws_ the dildo in and out of him a few minutes then pulls it straight out to shove right back in. 

The thrusts get harder and faster, pushing pleasure into pain and back again so quickly Q can only writhe for more on each in stroke.  James shifts between his legs; lifts the right one to drape over his shoulder and wraps his left arm around the limb to anchor their bodies together.  The position strains the muscles in his thighs in a way that he knows he’ll feel in the morning, but in the moment he can only arch and beg for more.

James angles his hips to grind his cock against Q’s thigh and he starts to alternate between biting and kissing Q’s calf as he gets caught up in the fever of the moment.  Q forces his eyes open to see this; James’s control beginning to fray.

James’s eyes are focused on the dildo he’s drilling into Q’s arse.  Sweat is beading on his forehead and his features are furrowed in concentration as he ruts almost absently against Q’s leg in time with the thrusting motion he’s established with the toy.

“Jesus,” Q chokes out, clenching his eyes shut again.  “You’re going to come like that.”

It’s an accusation, observation, question and plea all in one and James huffs out a laugh against the foot braced against his shoulder.

“’s so good,” his voice his ragged as he slowly pulls the dildo back then eases it back in.  “You’re such a good boy,” his hand stroke appreciatively over Q’s thigh, making it quiver.  “Perfect.”

Q makes a sound somewhere between growl and moan at the compliment as he digs in with his fingers and foot in an effort to find the momentum to fuck back against James’s grinding and thrusting.  The sound becomes a choked off cry of protest as he can’t get the angle right.

“James,” he keens, shaking as the jelly material of the dildo begins to feel too big and hard and fake inside him.

“Shh,” James runs a calming hand down his side.  “You can do it.  What do you need?”

He can only twist and grind in answer, his mind unable to come up with any more of a solution than his body. 

He wants James.  He wants his lover’s cock; hot, hard, familiar flesh filling him, slapping into and against him as James fucks him into the mattress with his weight and passion.  He wants to clutch at skin, not sheets.  And he wants to keep fucking the toy in his arse.

His begins to thrash in his indecision, wanting everything and nothing and needing _something._

James shifts between his legs, moving his thigh back to hold the dildo in place so he can grip Q’s hips in both hands and urge them to settle against the pillow.  The shift hold the dildo steady for Q to fuck against and he groans as he does just that; swiveling his hips to get the fake dick rubbing up inside him in just the right way to make his toes and fingers curl.

He feels James grinding his cock against him in unconscious mimicry of his motions and he senses the man watching him, but he can only allow himself to focus on the tension building inside.  He feels volatile; one wrong twist and he’ll combust, one right twist and he’ll explode.  He fingers begin to ache from clutching the bedding and he can hardly swallow from the sharp angle of his throat from the arch of his torso, but he can’t stop because he’s just not _there_ yet. 

James bounces his leg to jostle the toy in Q’s arse and he see colors sparking behind his eyelids at that.  He cries out for more, shaking and bucking for it.

“That’s it,” James hums, moving a hand to grip Q’s cock tightly while using his other to help guide the erratic movements of Q’s hips.  “Ride it, baby.”

Q does just that, digging in and pushing to get enough recoil from the mattress to rock and bounce him against the dildo braced against James’s leg. 

They find a rhythm of Q bouncing and James grinding his cock against Q’s thigh and it’s so good that Q’s eyes burst opening to stare blindly at the ceiling as he pants for breath.  The rhythm is quickly lost, though, as James’s grinding gets frantic and he begins to use his hand roughly to try pulling Q off to climax first.

Q flops his head around to stare at James, but he can only make out the vague shape of the man through the haze of his vision.  He makes a whimpering sound that causes James to lift his head and look at him and Q finds is hand unclenching from the covers to reach for James’s.  Their fingers slip then tangle together on Q’s stomach, anchoring him as his eyes close again.

James leans forward, perhaps to kiss him, and the shift breaks the dam.  The stretch from the push against his leg causes his muscles to clench in protest and James’s thigh moves back to allow the dildo to slide out a little. His left leg gives out, collapsing to the bed and dropping him down to chase after the dildo and it jabs back into him at just the right wrong angle to make him shout out and jolt as if electrocuted.

Another shift by him or James or perhaps even both of them causes color to dance behind his tightly closed eyelids as he feels himself coming just before it all goes black.

When he comes to, he’s lying sprawled over James’s chest, both their bodies tucked under a thin sheet.  His glasses are gone and so are James’s boxers.  The man’s erection is gone leaving Q to wonder how long he was out this time and if James really had gotten off by just grinding against his leg.  Q has that leg tucked between both of James’s and the dildo has thankfully been removed from his arse.

In it’s place, though, are two of James’s fingers, tucked in to the first knuckle and just hooked there as if to bind them together.  Q shivers are that thought and squeezes to clutch at those fingers.  He feels empty and exposed and he burrows against James’s solidity.

“Ok?” James mumbles, jaw moving over the top of Q’s head as he shifts upon realizing Q’s awake.

Q makes a noncommittal sound and tries to pretend like he’s still asleep, but James shifts to remove his fingers and Q doesn’t want that.

“Leave them,” he pushes back against the man’s hand and brings his legs together to trap those fingers.  “’s empty.”

James hums in agreement, curling his fingers in deeper and moving his thumb to rub at the slackened skin of Q’s pucker, “So open,” he slips a third finger in and nuzzles Q’s hair aside to press a kiss to his forehead.  “Was it good?”

Q huffs out a weak laugh at the idea of “good” in relation to what he’s just been through. 

James tsks and moves his free hand to tip Q’s face up to look him in the eye, “Use your words, Q.”

“No words,” Q grins, knowing it’s probably a cross between utterly blissed out and just plain maniacal.

“You hurt?” James’s expression is watchful as he stares deep in Q’s eyes.  “Did you like it?”

“I’m fine,” Q smiles and leans up to kiss the man for his fretting. “And I can’t describe it.  Never been like that before.”

“Too much?” James curls him in closer and Q is still boneless so he just goes with it; he does _not_ snuggle into the man.

“Little bit,” he admits with his head finding the crook of James’s shoulder and settling there.  “You’re gonna love it.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had far too much fun with this so it drags on a bit more than I'd originally planned and I felt a third part was needed to break up the scene. Part 3 in the works and hopefully to be up shortly.

Work conspires against them to prevent Q from having the time he wants to devote to James’s taking of the King. 

A minor explosion caused by a bad batch of exploding pens – yes, Q Branch still makes them, Q simply knows better than to issue one to James Bond – results in an avalanche of paper work for Q to handle while monitoring four agents on assignment in the field. 

Just as Q’s workload eases, James’s picks up with a mission to Ireland to locate recent arms shipments taken by a splinter group of the Real IRA and determine how they were intercepting supplies for the British Army to the north.  Locating the weapons stash takes a day, but infiltration is required to determine how they’d been obtained.  James manages to charm his way in quickly, but it takes him a week in Dunmurry and a close encounter with a mortar for Bond to learn of the leak inside the British Army feeding convoy information to the militants.

James returns on a Thursday; swearing that shrapnel wounds are superficial, but the incident leaves Q more shaken than he cares to admit.  There is an upside of the injury as it earns James a guaranteed weekend off from work.  He leaves the office after returning the pieces of his watch, communicator and the bugging device that had been used to obtain evidence of the leak. 

Q, though, has hours to go before he can sign off on the day’s work.  He takes the tube to his flat as he used to do before James and still does when the man isn’t around to drive him around.  He hurries to the front door, but stops therewith key in hand and realizes that that hand is shaking. 

He draws a deep breath and tightens his grip on the key until the cut of it against his skin stops the tremors.  Reminding himself that James is fine, he puts the key in the lock and enters for flat. 

Music is playing softly in the background; chamber music which means that James is in a mellow mood or striving for calm.  He smells food, something rich and spicy that strikes a familiar chord but he can’t immediately identify it.  He goes through the motions of shrugging off his satchel and coat to hang on the coat rack as he kicks off his shoes while looking around for James.

“Indian takeaway work for you?” the man asks as he rises from the sofa where he has apparently been reading.  “Wasn’t sure when you’d be home, so I didn’t cook.”

“Indian’s fine and you never have to cook for me,” it still amazes Q when James prepares an actual meal.  “Especially when you’ve been ordered to light duty.”

“Light meaning I’m not to be chasing down terrorists, I can still boil spaghetti,” James moves to the kitchen to begin pulling out containers from the oven. 

“Perhaps tomorrow, that.”

Q moves to the bar to sit and watch as James dishes up the saffron rice, tandoori meats, palak paneer and naan to each take a turn in the microwave for a quick heating.  James has changed into a loose pair of lounge pants with a drawstring waist and a loose plain white tee.  He looks comfortable and relaxed like this has just been another day, which Q supposes it has been for James.

To distract himself before he can start thinking about feelings, Q jumps up to get plates and silverware to place on the bar for their meal. 

“What are you drinking?” Q asks while going to the fridge for a bottle of water for himself.

“Got a lager on the coffee table,” James answers with a jerk of his chin in that direction.

Q puts his water on the counter then moves to collect the bottle of lager from the living room, taking note of the thick volume spread open on the table next to the drink; a history of the Irish Republican Army’s rise and a look at the splinter factions that have developed in Ireland since the Anglo-Irish Treaty.

“I see you’ve been unwinding with a bit of light reading,” Q remarks drolly while carrying the bottle to James.

“Some of that would have been useful for me to know,” James takes the lager and tips it in cheers before taking the last of the reheated food from the microwave to place on the bar.

“I provided you with all the pertinent details for the assignment,” Q defends with a frown; feeling his appetite wane at the idea that something could have been done to keep James from injury on the mission.  “Had you known too much they’d have known you were trained and likely an Agent of the Crown.”

“And knowing as little as I did, they still ended up identifying me as MI6.”

“Yes, but this way they gave you the information we needed before trying to kill you rather than immediately gunning for your head,” Q sits on his stool and twists open his water for a drink as he concludes his reasoning.

“A good point,” James concedes while scooping rice on to his plate.  “All’s well that ends well.”

Given that James is there alive, Q will agree that the end of the job went well enough and he says no more on the matter.  He heaps his plate with the spinach and rice dishes before snagging a piece of naan.  He reaches out to snag a prawn from the tandoori, dangling it above his mouth by the tail and biting it in half with an appreciative hum.

“You’ll have the authorities after me if you keep that up,” James grins and fills his own plate, opting for the chunks of chicken from the tandoori assortment.  “I could have sworn you’ve told me you’re of legal age so why are you playing with your food again?”

“Not playing,” Q wags the remaining bit of seafood at the man.  “Eating.  These prawns are finger foods.”

“Are they now?”

James picks one up by his fingers and takes a bite of it as Q pinches off the tail of his piece and tosses the last of the meat into his mouth.  As soon as he finishes chewing the bite, James reaches over and shoves the rest of his prawn into Q’s mouth.

“Use a fork, you heathen,” the man pinches his cheek before spearing a chunk of chicken on his own fork.

Q deliberately reaches out to grab the last prawn with his fingers and manages to get three shrimp before James raps his knuckles with the back of his empty fork.  Q throws the man a smirk and sucks his thumb into his mouth to clean off the residue of spices from the food. 

James doesn’t order him to use a napkin, he snags Q’s wrist and pulls to suck Q’s index and middle fingers in to get them clean. 

Q no longer has any interest in food, whether it be eaten or played with.

James’s eyes have a familiar glimmer in them as he releases Q’s hand and shoves a fork into it.

“Eat,” he orders before turning back to his own plate. 

Q turns to do just that, thinking that this should be the other way around with him insuring that James eats, but it’s always like this after assignments.  When James is away for more than two or three days, it has become his habit to feed Q first thing because somehow the man knows that Q lives off of caffeine and stale crackers, practically living at the bunker when James’s missions start to drag out. 

The first time it had happened was a five-day stretch with James managing to retrieve a valuable hard drive without injury but having to cross the whole of Europe to achieve the objective with the thief aware of their being chased.  Q began pacing the communications centers and camping out in the electronics development lab after the third day.  By day five, he’d been jittery and agitated; snapping at the interns and throwing around his own tech when it didn’t work as quickly as his fingers entered commands via the keyboard.  James had returned at some point, finished his debriefing, collected Q with the thanks of a room full of harried interns then brought Q home and cooked him an omelet.  The sex that had followed the meal had exhilarating and exhausted Q to the point where he had actually slept for the first time in nearly three days.

This is the fourth time since all this began that the pattern of behavior has repeated itself and Q digs in to clean his plate for the sex to come. 

Q considers broaching the subject of the King and James’s turn with the toy, but reminds himself that the man is injured and he’ll be lucky for there to be any sex at all.  As they finish up, James rises stiffly and Q sees his wince when the man reaches for his empty plate.

“I’ll clean up,” Q moves quickly to collect the dishes and move them to the sink.  “Go on to bed, I’ll be there shortly.”

He begins to fill the sink with water to wash the few dishes and feels James behind him even before the man puts his hands on Q’s hips.

“Forget the dishes,” he props his chin on Q’s shoulder and reaches past him to turn off the taps.  “Let’s both go to bed.”

Q doesn’t even look twice at the dishes as he turns in James’s arms.

“Sure you’re up for it?” he rubs a hand carefully up James’s arm until he brushes the edge of bandages on his shoulder.

James ignores the meaning of that gesture and goes for the pun instead, grinning and shifting closer to bump his groin against Q’s.  “I assure you, Q, I am _up_ for it.”

“I asked for that,” Q scoffs out as he drops his head to James’s shoulder.

“Anything else you’d like to ask for?”

Some things immediately come to mind, but Q says nothing as he reaches between them to tug the laces and loosen the waist of James pants.  He turns his head to mouth at the side of James’s neck as he slips a hand in to curl around James’s cock as he grinds against the man’s hip.

James eases back to unzip Q’s cardigan and start in on his shirt buttons as he turns his head to press their mouths together.  Q stills at the kiss, breathing catching and fingers unfurling as the feel and taste of James sinks into him.  Days of worry and disquiet melt away as he slides his hands up to wrap around James’s waist. 

It isn’t a hug; men in their kind of relationship don’t hug.  His arms just curl around James to pull the man closer in just the same way that James’s hands move to hold Q; one hand going into Q’s hair while the other spreads open over the center of Q’s back.  Their mouths break apart, but their bodies stand still; foreheads pressing together as a silent moment becomes two.

“Let’s go to bed,” James squeezes the back of his neck then pulls away from Q.

He keeps his hand on the back of Q’s neck as they walk while Q’s hand tangles loosely in the material of James’s shirt at the small of his back. 

Once in the bedroom, Q turns into James and uses his hold on the shirt to pull the tee up.  James makes a noise, not quite a hiss, as his left arm raises above his head and Q carefully tugs the garment free with careful attention paid to the bandaging on the man’s shoulder.  Feeling it to be _his_ turn to do the caring, he tosses the shirt to the floor and urges James to sit at the foot of the bed.  He moves without a word to collect some supplies from the bathroom and returns to place the on the bed next to James.

Even though James is still sitting in the same place that Q had sat him, Q can immediately see that the trashcan is now closer to the foot of the bed and James’s bandages have been discarded into the bin.

“They didn’t even require stitches,” James says even as he shifts on the bed for Q to sit behind him.

Q hums in a noncommittal manner as he looks at the angry marks on James’s flesh.  He had read the report even as the clerk typed it into James’s medical records, so Q knows that they’re shallow scratches and three gouges in James’s back from the way that he had ducked and turned away from an exploding car after the mortar struck it.  The largest cut oozes just a little blood as Q probes the skin around it and he tsks as James hisses at the tenderness. 

Q turns to open the first aid kit and pulls out a few antiseptic swabs to gently wipe the area clean of blood and residue from the previous bandage.  He dabs the skin dry then goes for the antibiotic cream to apply carefully to the cuts.  With an efficiency that is all too handy for one in a relationship with James Bond, Q applies fresh gauze and tape to cover the injured area.

New bandage in place, he slides his hand to James’s uninjured shoulder and grips it tightly while bowing his head over the patched over skin.

“Going to kiss it better?” James says after a moment, his tone too soft to offend Q.

“My mother used to do that,” Q smiles at the memories of his few childhood scrapes then he presses a light kiss over the bandages.  “I suspect you’re all better now.”

“It’s remarkable,” James retorts; turning toward him, “I feel like a brand new man.”

Q doesn’t get a chance to call him a smart ass before James bears him back to the mattress and covers his mouth.  Q’s instinct is to grab at James’s shoulders in this position, but he catches himself just before he can do any harm and he worms his arms around the man to grab James’s arse instead.  His palms stroke over the worn linen of James’s pants before he presses in to feel the flex of tight muscle bunching with every shift of James’s body.

Q parts his legs for James to settle between them as the man leans back to finish unbuttoning Q’s shirt.  They both rise up to pull the clothes away before Q lays back down to push at James’s pants.  James braces himself above Q and automatically moves to use his right hand to unfasten Q’s pants only to suddenly go still.

“Knackers,” James borrows one of Q’s curse words just before he rolls to lie beside him.  “Perhaps I need another kiss.”

“Perhaps we need to postpone this,” Q counters as he curls against James side and takes the man’s cock in hand.  “I could suck you,” he suggests, already beginning to kiss his way down James’s torso.

“Or,” James pushes him back, “you could fuck me.”

He straddles Q’s waist and grinds his arse down against Q’s cock. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he moves suddenly away to get some supplies of his own from the bedside table.

“Dynasties have fallen over less dire words,” Q quips as he hustles out of the rest of his clothes upon seeing the condom and lube.

“With us having the weekend off,” James continues as if Q had never spoken, “we should get the King out again.”

Q goes quiet to see what else the man has to say to see how in line their thinking is.

“You take me tonight,” James moves back to straddling Q, “start loosening me up,” he begins to ride against Q’s bare cock, “in the morning, before you head off to work, you put the plug in me to get me all slack for when you come home from the office and fuck all of that dildo into my arse.”

Q’s mind blanks for a moment at the very thought of doing any one of those things; that James _wants_ him to do all three leaves Q feeling slightly dazed.

“That feels like a yes,” James smirks as he feels Q’s cock jump under his ass. 

He spins around to present that arse to Q before he reaches for a condom to roll over Q’s cock.  Q doesn’t need instructions for this as he hastily removes his glasses.  He lifts his hands to James’s hips and pulls until his face is pressed against the curve of James’s arse.  Q moves his hands inward to grip the man’s cheeks and pry them apart for Q’s tongue to lick along the crack.  James moves his hands to hold himself open and Q immediately puts his freed hands to use working James’s tight hole open with the glide of his tongue and the prod of his fingers.

When James starts grinding down into him and making it hard for Q to breathe, he twists his head away to locate the lubricant and pop it open for additional slick to push into James’s arse.  James shifts his knees out further and tightens his grip to spread himself open even more as Q pushes two slicked fingers all the way in.  He twists and scissors them until he can work in a third to thrust and curl until some of the resistance of James’s rim eases enough for the fingers to move in and out with only a slight catch.

“Now,” his voice is husky with the command so he enforces it with a light bite to James’s arsecheek.

James pivots quickly to swing his legs around and reposition himself over Q’s cock.  Q just lies back and strokes James’s taut thighs, knowing that the man will handle this however he wants it.  He reaches behind him to hold Q’s shaft steady then his other hand goes between his legs to hold his balls out of the way as he begins to sink downward.  Q’s hands move to the man’s arse to spread him open as he watches his cock sliding up into James.

Q waits until James it fully seated and pulls his hands away from between his legs to slide over Q’s chest before Q starts to thrust.  James thumbs Q’s nipples to make him arch upward as Q shifts his hands from holding James open to holding him down.

Their usual talk is missing as they thrust and grind together, hands sliding and fingers gripping hard enough to bruise.  Q pulls at James’s back, using the hold for leverage to raise himself up enough bite a mark over James’s heart then up on his shoulder the onto his neck and jaw until his tongue is thrusting into James’s mouth in pace with the movement of his cock in the man’s arse. 

He’d love to topple James back on to the bed and shift over him to fuck in harder, faster and deeper, but his eyes open to see the flash of white over James’s hunched shoulders and thoughts of fucking shift to something else.  He digs in deeper where he is, tugging at James’s lower lip with his teeth as they pull apart to breathe. 

James puts a hand under Q’s neck to offer support as Q bites his way back down James’s throat.  He begins to ride harder as Q lies back on the bed; moving his hand from Q’s neck to slide back to his chest and brace there for momentum. 

Q’s eyes open to see James staring down at him with a single-minded focus.  Q moves a hand between them to tug and roll James’s bollocks with nimble fingers to help aid James in his mission to come.  Q braces his feet on the bed and begins to buck upward as he moves his other hand to James’s cock. 

James’s head tips backward and his body strains forward as he spreads his thighs further to take Q in more.  His face is set, features flushed with a red tide that covers him to his pectorals and tells Q how hard the man is fighting not to come.  Q wants him to come, though, wants the feel of it sticky and warm over his hand and stomach as he fills the condom keeping him from coming deep in James’s arse.

“Let go,” he both orders and requests with his thumb rubbing under the head of James’s penis.  “I’ve got you,” _won’t lose you._   “Come for me.  Come _on me_ , James.”

James bites out a curse as his hips snap forward and his head drops to watch Q’s hand flying over his cock until it begins to spurt, semen lashing out over Q’s abdomen.  Q’s toes curl in tightly to stave off his own orgasm as he milks James’s cock until the convulsions stop.  He immediately lets go then, moving his hands to James’s arse and holds it tight as he screws his hips up as hard and deep as he can get from this angle.  James lightly pinches a nipple and that’s all she wrote; Q bucks and arches in his climax until he nearly unseats the man straddling him. 

James comes down over him like a blanket as Q goes soft, the shift pulling him away until Q’s softened cock slips out of James’s arse. 

Q reluctantly grabs hold of the condom and shifts out from under the man to slip the rubber off then tie and toss it in the trash.  James rolls to his side, grabbing Q’s glasses and offering them up when he very nearly crushes them.  Q nods his thanks and moves quickly to recollect their supplies to put the lot aside for them to go to sleep.  He goes to the bathroom to wipe himself down then moisten a fresh cloth to go do the same to James.

James’s hand stops him, taking hold of Q’s wrist. 

“Leave it,” James takes the rag and tosses it aside in favor of pulling Q under the covers.  “It’ll help the plug go in easier in the morning.”

That’s more than enough to send Q off to sweet dreams and the first sound night of sleep that he’s had in three days.

~*~

Morning comes with James groping his arse and telling him to wake up with a sharp nip to Q’s ear. 

As always, Q smacks at his alarm clock for the snooze button.

James gives him a stinging slap on the arse and Q grumbles out a series of disjointed insults and slurs aimed at the man.  He locates his glasses and jams them on before he stumbles from the bed to shuffle for the bathroom. 

As he finishes he hears the whistle of the teakettle and wrestles with indecision; go after his Earl Grey or get into the shower?  His sluggishly waking mind is still weighing the pros and cons when James enters the room with a steaming mug in hand.

“God, I love you,” he groans into the warm cup, keeping his eyes on the tea to insure that there’s no misunderstanding that he means to declare affections only for the beverage. 

“Get the shower started, you junkie,” James watches in amusement as Q finishes chugging the tea down.

Q puts the mug down on the counter next to the sink and prepares to remove his glasses when James distracts him by pulling items out of the medicine cabinet; water-soluble lube and the bed knob butt buddy.  He peels off his bandage then, after giving Q’s hard cock a brief glance, he adds a condom to the collection before carrying the new items into the shower stall. 

“I suppose I have to tell you to go away to get you to join me?” James gives him an arched look before turning the taps on to start the shower. 

Q nearly breaks off an earpiece in the process of yanking off his glasses and tossing them in the general direction of the sink in his rush to get in the shower with James. 

Q’s shower is one of the reasons that he may never move from this flat.  The previous tenant had suffered a stroke some years before passing and the whole apartment had been outfitted with handholds and grab rails for the man’s safety.  Q had removed most of the fixtures as unnecessary, but he’d kept the ones in the bathroom because studies have shown that a staggering number of injuries occur in the bath.  In addition to a waist high bar along the back and side wall of the large shower stall, there’s a bench installed under the handheld showerhead and grips on either side of the seat to enable one to climb their way up to a standing position after sitting for their bath.

James has delighted in opening Q’s eyes to the possibilities of such items for use in sexual activities. 

“Time?” he asks, scenarios already running through his head as the hot water splashes over him.

“Hour,” James replies, crowding him up against the wall as he closes them in the stall.

“To do?” Q snags a quick kiss, mindful of morning breath before moving on to bite James’s ear so the man can answer.

“Fuck, shower, plug, dress, breakfast then off to work with you,” James lists with determination to see all things done in just that order.

“In one hour?” Q pulls back to scoff, unsure which part is offensive, but certain that something of the scheme is unflattering.

“I hadn’t included sex in my original calculations,” James admits with a throwaway grin and careless shrug.  “You’ve only your cock to blame if you end up late.”

“My cock obeys only you these days, so it will most certainly be _your_ fault if I’m late again,” Q counters, not at all concerned that the statement holds a measure of truth.

“I didn’t realize,” James feigns a gasp, “I shall offer my apologies to Mallory immediately and I’m sure he’ll be very understanding once I-“

Q stops that bit of nonsense by taking the showerhead in hand and giving the man a good douse in the face.

“Water’s not too hot, is it?” he asks, all innocence to justify his action.

“You’re lucky I’ve a fondness for this arse,” James growls as he takes the nozzle away and smacks it against Q’s butt, “else I’d have to thrash it for such a cheeky move.”

“If you’re so fond, shut up and fuck it already.”

Q pushes James to sit on the bench then reaches for the condom and lube placed on the corner shelf of the stall.  James takes the items from him, rises then bends over to place them on the seat.

“I rather thought you’d do me,” he spreads his legs like a centerfold and tosses a look over his shoulder.

“Again?” Q gets to top every so often but never so often as this.

“Wanna be open for it tonight,” he braces his elbows on the bench and pushes his arse up high, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream,” Q murmurs as he reaches for the condom to slide it on.

He takes the showerhead and gives their bodies a good spraying before he returns the nozzle to its cradle on the wall. 

“You’ll be so loose by the end of this,” he warns as he coats his fingers with lube and manages to work them easily into James’s arsehole.  “Doubt you’ll even feel me up in you after that monster.”

Q pulls off the joking tone well enough to his own ears as he voices a secret fear.

“I’ll always feel you,” James states with a simplicity that causes Q to drop the lube.

“Leave it,” James turns toward him before Q can start bumbling around for the fallen bottle.  “I’m ready.”

He pushes Q’s wet hair back from his forehead, sliding his hand over the slick strands until he can cup it to hold Q still for a kiss.

Q pushes into the man, tonguing into James’s mouth while curling his hands around the man’s arse to hold him closer as their cocks grind together.  James breaks away to turn and grip the handrail, legs spread and arse outthrust. 

Q runs his hands down the man’s spine, memorizing the natural curve of it and the added dip from James’s pose.  He reaches behind him to angle the showerhead for drops to bounce over James’s skin then join to flow down the man’s spine and between James’s spread legs.  His fingers follow the course of the water to glide into the crack of his arse and finger James’s loosened hole. 

He imagines the night to come with that arse opening up for the large, purple dildo and he bends forward to lick water from James’s back as he shifts closer to position his cock against the puckered flesh.  James pushes out as Q pushes in, slow and steady until he’s balls deep in the man.  He places sucking kisses over the breadth of James’s shoulder, licking up the side of his neck to bite at the man’s ears.

His hands glide over Jame’s hips, thighs and torso as Q just rocks and swivels his hips against James until the man clenches at him.  He watches James’s hands grip the rail tighter to push himself back on to Q’s cock and Q moves his hands to grip James’s hips to hold him steady as he begins a harder fucking focused on the angle that apparently strokes over James’s prostate.

James thrusts back to encourage a hard, fast pace that Q is more than happy to match.  Their slick skin slaps and slides together; water slowly going from hot to warm with them both knowing cold would come shortly.

James straightens to flatten his back to Q’s chest and changing the angle of his hips to slow the thrusting to a dirty grind.  He reaches back with one hand to grip Q’s thigh while twisting around to seek out Q’s mouth, reaching up and back to awkwardly grip Q’s hair.  The angle is off for a proper kiss, but their tongues and breaths twine while their lips brush together, brief and sloppy. 

Q turns his hands to James’s groin, the fingers of his left hand skating the line where thigh and pelvis meet before curling in for an anchoring grip as his right hand fists around James’s cock to give it something to thrust in to. 

James twists back forward to brace his arm against the wall as he drops his head forward.  He keeps his grip on Q’s thigh and tightens it as he fucks himself between the thrust of Q’s cock and the squeeze of his fist. 

The sounds of his grunts and panting breaths fills Q’s ears over the sound of water falling and the rush of his own blood.  Q bucks and pulls; movements becoming rough and breathing ragged as he begins to speak low and obscene to spur James to come.

It wrecks Q when it happens, the sudden vise grip of James’s arse around the length of his cock as the man’s body begins to spasm in release.  James’s hips jerk forward into Q’s now milking and his body bows taut as he chokes out a gasp.  Q moulds himself to the man’s back and simply rides the wave of James’s orgasm, taking it into himself and feeling his own hips whipping forward as he comes, biting into the meat of James’s shoulder to stifle his own cries.

His body feels limp and boneless with satiation and he wants nothing more than to slide to the floor for recovery, but James seems rejuvenated by his climax once it ends.  He pulls himself off Q’s softened cock and turns to ease Q down to sit on the bench.   His hands are steady and strong on Q’s shoulders while Q’s head flops back as his body slumps against the wall.

Q stares blearily up at the man and hates James for being a morning person just as much as he loves the bastard’s energy.  James moves his hands to thread through Q’s hair as he bends to press a kiss to Q’s slack lips until Q recovers enough sense to kiss back.  His hands lift to grasp at James’s shoulders until he grips too hard in the wrong place; forgetting the cuts until James breaks away with a slightly pained grunt.

James shushes Q before he can apologize, pulling away to get the shampoo and begin lathering Q’s hair.  Q determinedly pushes upward to stand and reach for the shower gel to fill his palm and begin cleansing James’s body, gliding with care and caution over the wound. 

Q drops to his knees to lather James’s legs, pressing a kiss to the man’s hip as he gently cleans James’s soft cock.  James takes the showerhead in hand and rinses the shampoo from Q’s hair as he kneels.  Q finishes with his scrubbing, closes his eyes and leans his face back into the pulsing spray of cooling water.  He feels the fingers of James’s free hand skimming over his closed eyelids, his cheekbone, and his jaw before brushing over Q’s lips.  Q opens his mouth and eyes at the same time to squint through the water to watch the man as he sucks James’s fingers into his mouth. 

James just smirks as he allows Q to suck for a moment before he pulls his hand back and uses it to urge Q back to his feet.  They trade off, Q for the shampoo to scrub over James’s scalp and James for the gel to clean Q’s body.  They complete the process without further ado, hands and bodies moving seamlessly together to work in the cramped space until they’ve rinsed away all the suds.

Q reaches behind him to turn off the taps as the water goes cold while James reaches for the lube and plug that he’d placed on the corner shelf.  Q accepts the items automatically as James offers them to him then he draws a shuddering breath as he realizes what he’s to do next.

 _“Fuck, shower, **plug,”**_ he hears the rasp of James’s voice in his memory as James again assumes the position against the back wall of the stall.

Q slicks back his hair, trying to get his stubborn cowlick from falling wetly across his eyes as he puts the plug aside on the bench behind him to devote his focus to the lubricant.  He takes his bare fingers to run around the slightly gaping rim of James’s arse, shuddering along with James when his dry fingers catch and drag over the sensitized flesh.  Q pulls his hand back to suck those fingers into his mouth before returning them to slide into the opening.  James parts his legs further and pushes his arse outward for more and Q pulls his hand away to smack at one taut cheek of the man’s arse. 

“Pushy bastard,” Q tsks, shaking his head with a fondness that James does not see.

“You’re the one not wanting to be late for work,” James reminds pointedly.

“I can always skip brekkie,” Q counters as he pops the top on the lube and begins to slick his fingers.

“You will not,” James replies sternly before casting a sly look over his shoulder.  “I can guarantee you will need the sustenance.”

There’s a challenge there that Q responds to by funneling together the three middle fingers of his right hand and shoving them into James’s arse without any additional foreplay. 

“That better for you?” Q asks with a smirk when James curses the stretch of Q’s fingers spreading open inside him.

James says nothing as he leans further forward to open himself up for Q to work him open for the plug.  Q works quick and quietly to apply fresh slick to the loose hole before he reaches for the toy on the bench. 

He angles himself so that James can twist his head around and watch as Q nimbly lubes up the large knob of the anal plug.  The solid mass is rubbery on the surface with an unforgivable hardness beneath. 

Once it’s coated, James reaches back to pull his arse open as Q puts the lube aside to move for insertion.  He adds his left hand to the one on James’s cheek to help hold him open as he wedges the blunt tip of the plug against his hole.  He drives it home with a twisting shove until the large curve pushes through the tight ring of James’s sphincter and he watches the muscle attempt to clench closed around the narrowing bottom of the knob.  Q works a finger under the base of the imbedded plug to feel the slick wrinkle of James’s hole around the rubber.

“Think you can manage to leave it in all day?”

“You put it in,” James straightens to turn into Q, “only you shall pull it out.”

The words are a promise and Q shivers at the thought.

“I’ll try to make an early day of it,” Q vows in return as he puts a hand to the back of James’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss.

“So I might actually see you before nightfall?”

James’s brow arches skeptically as he pushes the door open and steps out on to the bathmat on the tiles next to the shower.  He reaches for a towel to wrap around his own waist as Q follow suit.  They each grab an additional towel to scrub their torsos dry as they move to the bedroom to dress.  Q goes to the closet to select his outfit for the day and elbows James aside when the man muscles in behind him to rub his towel briskly over Q’s wet hair.

“Quit it,” he ducks and twists away from the terry cloth as James throws it over his head. 

He grabs the towel, balls it up and throws it after the padding sound of James’s retreating footsteps as he goes to the dresser to pull out a casual set of loungewear for his day.  James retaliates by picking out a pair of Q’s white briefs and balling them up to throw at Q.

Q glares in his general direction as be bends to pick the underwear up and step into them.  The slap of bear feet on the floor alerts him to James’s approach and he braces for more adolescent foreplay only to blink as James settles a pair of glasses on Q’s face. 

“Can’t have you dressing blind now, can we?” the man smirks at Q’s expression.  “Not that it help s to see your options in this lot,” he tsks sadly at Q’s half of the contents hanging in the closet.  “I had so hoped dating me would inspire you to add some actual style to your wardrobe.”

“I’m quite stylish as it is,” Q snipes, selecting a pair of slim black trousers, a light blue Oxford and navy cardigan with geometric designs on it in black, white and greys.

James snorts his disagreement and leaves for the kitchen as Q begins to dress.

By the time he joins the man in the other room, James has all four burners going and bread in all four slots of the toaster.  The teakettle begins to whistle and the toast springs up just as Q opens the fridge to pull out the orange juice. 

He moves to pour the beverage into each of the two glasses waiting on the bar.  He settles the box of juice on the counter then turns his attention to the tea.  He pushes in beside James to remove the kettle from the stove while allowing the man to focus on tending the skillets with eggs and hash frying.  He notices that the sausage links are a nice, sizzling brown in the third skillet and he locates a fork to stab one of them to remove from the grease. 

He holds the fork in his left hand to allow the meat to cool while he uses his right hand to pouring piping hot water into the mug waiting on the counter beside the stove.  He puts the kettle back on the burner to keep warm then bites into his pilfered sausage as he plays with the teabag in his mug to make a quick and dirty cuppa to start his day.

A squeeze of lemon and stir with the teabag completes his task and he moves to the trashcan to dispose of the used bag.  He places his mug on the bar beside his glass of juice, finishes his sausage to place the fork on his plate then he moves to the toaster to collect the golden browned bread and push down two more slices of white bread.  He moves around the kitchen, weaving past James at the stove, to get butter and jam for the slice of toast that he retains.  He stands over the bar, adding condiments to the bread without a care for the glob of marmalade that falls to the floor at his hasty motions. 

“You’ll spoil your appetite,” James tsks as Q takes a large bite out of the jellied toast.

Q shrugs to indicate how very much he doesn’t care and turns to offer James a bite as Q chews.  James accepts the offering while reaching out a thumb to swipe away a drop of jam on Q’s chin.  Q swallows the food in his mouth then opens up to suck James’s thumb clean while the man chews his own bite of toast.  He nips the digit before releasing it in favor of finishing his toast and collecting the additional pieces that pop up from the toaster.

James turns back to the stove, shutting off burners before removing each skillet in turn.  He moves the sausages with tongs to place them on a plate in a neat stack before setting the platter on the bar and moving the skillet nearer to the sink to await washing.  He divides the scrambled eggs between the two plates waiting on the bar before stacking the emptied skillet to the one next to the sink then repeating the process with the hash browned potatoes. 

As he deposits the last skillet, Q moves to grab the ketchup from the refrigerator before sitting down on the stool next to James.  He salt his plate without even tasting the food to see if it is needed for flavoring, then pops the cap on the ketchup bottle to squeeze it out over his hash and eggs.

“Heathen,” James chides, snatching the bottle away and moving the salt and pepper shakers beyond Q’s reach.

He puts a splash of ketchup on his own potatoes before closing the cap and setting the bottle aside.  Q doesn’t argue the accusation as he grins around a forkful of reddened eggs.  He snatches three small sausages and two more slices of toast before he really digs into the meal.

They eat without speaking, but it’s far from a quiet affair as Q hums his appreciation for each bit and James grunts to acknowledge the unspoken compliments.  When Q wants a bit more salt for his eggs he grunts and nudges against James’s side, but James merely hums himself and ignores the gesture.  Q huffs out a breath and shakes his head at the man, but continues shoveling food into his mouth without any complaints. 

The food is hot, flavorful and abundant, so Q is thankful though it’s fun to twitch James’s tail whenever he can.

“I’m going to be late for the tube,” Q curses at his watch and finishes off one last bite of sausage before shoving his empty plate away and dropping his fork on to it.

“I can take you in, if you prefer,” James offers as he clears away the dishes.

“Absolutely not,” Q chokes out in horror at the idea of James appearing at the office on a day that he had been ordered to take off just so he can deposit Q at work.  “They hardly need that kind of fodder for the rumor mills as it is.”

James makes no comment to that as he deposits the dishes into the sink with last night’s neglected utensils.  Q swallows down the last of his tea then pushes to his feet to rush for the door.  James follows at a more leisurely pace and props himself against the wall as Q jams his feet into shoes.

“And what will you be doing with your day?” Q asks as he puts on his coat and slings the strap of his satchel over his shoulder.

“What any neglected housewife would do, I suppose,” James’s mouth shapes a moue.  “Clean up a bit then lie about eating bonbons, watch some drama on the telly and pine for your return.”

The sarcasm does not bode well and Q freezes in the process of opening the door to cast a worried glance over his shoulder.

“Whatever you’re planning, do try not to burn the place down,” he orders crisply.

“I’m not planning a thing,” James tucks his hands into his pants pockets, “but if I were to have an agenda, trashing this place would never be on it.  Can’t allow anything to happen to that shower.”

They exchange varying smirks at the idea before Q moves to exit the flat, resisting the urge to blow the man a campy kiss.

James does not restrain himself, he sends Q off with a pursing of his lips and an over exaggerated kissing noise to which Q responds with a single raised finger as he steps out the door.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Q’s day is endless.

He outfits Five for a mission in the arctic, wondering all the while why anyone would be so daft as to actually think of melting the polar icecaps. 

He monitors Four’s progress with a Taliban faction and checks One in after a successful retrieval of classified files somehow obtained by the North Koreans.  The check-in process is as smooth as they all should be, the agent neatly pressed and in one unbroken piece as he turns over each and every gadget that he had been issued for the assignment for Q to check off his inventory log and meticulously look over for anything needing repair.  He’d put the surveillance footage of the exchange on disc and take it home to watch with James if he thought for a single second that the man would ever stop deliberately and accidentally losing or damaging his Q Branch technology.

He personally inspects a new batch of exploding pens and sees to their safe storage in the cool depths of the armory.  He checks in personally with all the technicians for updates on their projects and he visits with the interns to encourage their progress.

Paperwork and reports await him on his desk with a flood of messages awaiting responses on his company computer and he bunkers down with an energy drink and stale chips to get through the tedious requirements of serving Her Majesty as Quartermaster.

He carries out conversations with Tanner and Eve as they shuttle paperwork back and forth between the Director’s office and Q’s. 

Not a single word or action or name or event sinks in as Q merely goes through all these motions to get his bloody day done.

He sits on his arse behind his desk signing off on reports and requisition orders and tries his damnedest not to squirm like he’s the one with a plug up his butt as his mind keeps feeding him images of James somewhere in London with the butt buddy jammed inside him.

He slurps down the last drops of his drink and thinks of his mouth wide open and sucking the last drops of come from James’s cock.

He spends the whole day walking around making sure that the hem of his cardigan is pulled down far enough to hide the fact that he’s got a damned boner like some horny adolescent.  It’s worse than the day James played with him with the remote plug in his arse because James is nowhere near headquarters so all Q can do is think of the bastard and _want him_ there.

Or, even more, he wants to be at **_home_** with James.

The staff begins to thin out at four and Q’s impatience begins to grow.  He passes forms and folders off to his assistant and begins making the rounds to complete his day by five.

He opts for a taxi to get him home rather than making the trek to the subway stop to catch the tube.  He sits in the back of the car, tapping his fingers over his knees and cursing the traffic that forces them to a near crawl through the streets.

He pays the driver and tries not to run across the sidewalk and down the steps to his flat. 

He unlocks the door with a sense of déjà vu as he enters the apartment.  The sensation compounds as he immediately hears the same music playing as the previous evening.  There’s no scent of food in the air, though, as Q goes through the motions of shedding his outer layers.

“Home already?” James appears over the back of the sofa, rearing up from where he has apparently been reading again.  “An uneventful day then?”

He marks his place and puts the thick book aside, now more than halfway through his reading on the Anglo-Irish Treaty. 

“Utterly, without you there,” Q smirks on his way to lean over the back of the sofa and give the man a kiss.  “I do hope my evening will be more exciting.”

“I can promise you that.”

James takes up the thread of teasing as he grabs the lapels of Q’s cardigan to haul him over the back to sprawl atop James on the couch.  Q lands with both of them grunting softly as their bodies collide and adjust on the narrow space.  Their mouths locate one another as naturally as homing pigeons and Q eases against James to make himself comfortable.  James takes Q’s glasses off with a practiced move to give them a toss out of the way to the coffee table.

Rather than pull away to protest the rough treatment of his specs, Q moans into the deepening kiss. 

James wraps him up tight and keeps the pace nice and slow.  Q worms a hand between them to stroke the strip of skin exposed by the way James’s tee shirt is riding up as they shift together.  His fingers skate the familiar ridges of James’s abdomen, enjoying the tickle of hairs near the waistband of his pants.  He catches his breath while nuzzling a path to James’s ear to suck on the lobe and nibble just as he knows the man likes. 

James turns his lips to Q’s neck as he pushes back to take loosen Q’s tie and unfasten the top buttons of his shirt so that he can suck a hickey on the crook of Q’s shoulder where it will be safely covered by clothing for work.  Q runs a hand over James’s short-cropped hair and grinds their cocks together as he tips his head further to the side. 

He doesn’t keep track of how long they stay at it there, twisted together on the sofa and making out like schoolboys, but Q knows he’s ready to spill in his trousers like a prat when James finally urging him to rise.  Q stumbles as he stands, falling happily against James’s chest as the man stands beside him.  James sets him to rights as Q strokes his fingers over the hard nub of a nipple, exposed to the air early on from Q’s hands having impatiently pushed James’s shirt off entirely.

He thinks to grab his glasses before following James to the bedroom, opting to be led from the room by his fingers hooked in the loose waistband of James’s lounge pants rather than bothering to put his specs on and actually see where he’s going.  James continues on into the bathroom and flicks on the light, causing Q to rear back as his dilated pupils are hit with the brightness. 

Feeling like a drunkard, he puts his glasses on and immediately catches sight of himself in the mirror; all tousled hair, wide eyes and swollen lips with the hint of bitemarks over his torso beneath the gaping edges of his shirt.  James has an amazing talent for making Q look all fucked out without them having done anything more than kissing. 

He puts a hand to his hair with a thought of trying to restore some order when James pushes his pants to the floor and kicks them aside to guarantee that the only thoughts in Q’s mind all suddenly revolve around the man’s naked arse.

“What was it you said?”

Q looks up from his lustful staring at the pale curve of James’s arse to blink and try to focus on the words as the man pushes in to strip away Q’s shirt; his cardigan long ago pushed to the living room floor.

“You bent over the sink,” James follows words with action and pulls away to assume said position, “and pulled out the plug I put in you?”

He presses his chest against the counter as he reaches back with his hands to pry his cheeks apart and finger the base of the plug inside him.  Q acts instinctively to smack the man’s fingers away when they curl around the base as if to pull the toy out.

“I believe that _you said_ that ‘only I shall take it out,’” Q reminds sharply.

Their gazes meet in the reflection of the mirror over the sink and James merely smiles as Q pushes out of the last of his clothes; pants left loose and gaping after having been opened for James’s hand to stroke him as they made out.  James’s brow arches in faint challenge even as he makes a grand show of pulling his hands away from his arse to take hold of the edge of the sink.

For one that supposedly prefers to top, he offers up his bottom like a pro when Q puts a steadying hand on his hip and curls his fingers around the slick base of the plug.  His knuckles push in against the ring of James’s anus as he struggles to get a solid grip on the toy and Q watches James’s knuckles go briefly white from the way the man grips the counter at the unintended caress. 

“On three,” Q says with the base in hand. 

James gives a nod and breathes with slow deliberation as Q begins the count.

“One,” he strokes James’s flank when he feels the muscles tense.

“Two,” he stills his hand to push as he quickly pulls the plug out without warning.

James arches and bucks at the harsh withdrawal, cursing Q who is quite pleased with himself for catching the man off guard.  He leans over James to toss the toy in the sink before drawing back to drop to his knees and stare at the gaping hole.

“Christ,” he exhales the word with his breath blowing out over the stretched skin.

The hole twitches, pucker trying to close against the draft and Q moves forward without thought to slide his tongue in to give the muscle something to close around.  The texture of the lube’s residue is more unpleasant than the taste and Q draws reluctantly away after a single twirl of his tongue around the inner rim of James’s arse.

“Feel how open you are,” he eases James’s hands away from their grip on the counter and draws them back to press between his spread legs.  “I could shove it all right up in you now and I wonder if you’d even flinch,” he husks.

Q sits back on his heels, hands stroking James’s thighs as he watches the man’s fingers exploring the slack opening.  James’s fingers dance around the circle before two dare plunge in followed quickly by a third from his right hand with the index finger of his left hand pressing against the entrance to flirt with sliding in.  Q’s vision goes hazy for a moment when the fingers draw back then thrust back in; all four of them in one go.

“Get it,” James’s voice is thick and rough over the simple words.

The instruction makes no sense at first.

“Get it now, Q,” there’s growl to the command that spurs Q into immediate action then.

He rushes to collect the dildo standing proudly on the nightstand where it had been placed to be at hand and ready for their use _in **bed**_.  Far be it for Q to protest or question, though, if James wants no soft mattress to collapse upon after he’s been wrung out by the orgasm he’ll have from this toy in his arse.

When Q returns, James is still bent over the sink; his head hanging forward into the porcelain basin as he draws measured breaths.

Q wastes no time in going for the lube as James lifts his head to turn his blazing blue eyes toward him. 

He keeps his eyes on the man, watching James watching him as Q dispenses lubricant to cover the fake cock.  He squeezes the bottle empty to slick the length and breadth of the thing and heat kicks in his gut at the thought of all that gel for one shaft.

James turns to face forward, gripping the lip of the sink and locking their gazes in the mirror.

“On three,” he grits out, features already flushed with the strain on his control.

Q’s lip quirks at the instruction and he considers how strictly he’ll adhere to the edict.

“One,” Q counts as he positions the dildo with both hands to keep the jelly length from flopping as he aims the head at James’s hole.

“Two,” he grins when James holds in a deep breath in anticipation of Q jumping the gun again.

“Three,” he says only after James has eased up enough to cast an impatient look over his shoulder.

Q works the head carefully past the ring of muscle at James’s entrance then he deliberately stops.

“Did you mean three as in one, two, three then go or one, two, go?” he feigns confusion while rolling the length of the dildo in his hands to twist the head in James’s arse.

“Q,” the man growls, eyes flashing with something more dangerous than lust as he rears up.

On that note, Q drives the dildo forward, punching it in and watching as James’s eyes virtually cross before he falls back over the counter.  He embeds and twists it around until the fake bollocks are pressing against James’s own hanging scrotum.

They both go still as Q is proven right, James does not flinch at the sudden and deep shove of the toy into his hole.  He twitches, though, mouth dropping open and fingers flexing for a grasp on nothing but air as he adjusts to the thing inside him.

Taking a page from James’s book, Q shifts to press his hip against the bottom of the dildo to hold it pushed all the way in while freeing his hands up to stroke over James’s back and sides.  James finally chokes out a sound when Q’s fingers brush over a ticklish patch of skin under his arms then he grabs at the counter and drops his head into the sink with a thud.

“Kill you,” Q makes out quite clearly among the nonsense that begins to spill from James’s lips.

Tsking at the threat as if this isn’t arousing him till his balls ache to come, Q shifts away to allow James’s body to try expelling the intruding shaft.  He takes his time in moving a hand to catch it before it falls out then he grabs it firmly and twists it back in.  James shudders at the thrust and Q repeats it, experimenting with the angle, depth and speed with a single-minded focus to distract from the throb of his neglected cock.

James twists and rocks back on the dildo without thought or care for how it’s tearing his arse open.  Q watches the way the purple thing saw in and out of James’s hole, the way the flesh alternately fights and clings to the obscene length.  The glide is smooth, though, easy and with little real resistance because of either the position or the looseness of James body.

Q envies the toy and wants to replace it with his own cock to discover just how loose James is since that morning.  He wants it until it becomes a visceral _need_ for him to be the thing making James break apart, but he can’t seem to stop his arm from pistoning the dildo in and out of James’s arse.

“Q,” James’s voice finally filters through the haze Q finds himself in, “Q.  Can’t.  Please,” the man is thrashing against the counter, making a keening noise between his disjointed words as his hips shrink away from the pounding of the King.  “Can’t come,” he grits out when Q finally slows the thrusts.  “Out,” he hunches tighter against the counter, almost as if he’s humping it.  “Take it out.”

Q realizes quickly, though, that James’s excitement has waned.  If they had safewords, he knows James would have just used his.

Q immediately shifts all of his focus to steadying James enough that he can remove the dildo from the trembling man without doing any more damage than he may have already done.  He hums and turns his hands to caressing in a nice, soothing manner until James draws a calming breath and stops shaking like an earthquake.

“I’m just going to hold and guide,” he says between kisses to the tense backs of James’s shoulders, “you push it out.”

James nods abruptly then takes a breath and reaches out before he complies.  Q slides his hand into James’s without thought, twining their fingers without a flinch at the way James squeezes tightly before he begins to force the dildo from his arse.

Q returns the man’s tight grip with a reassuring strength as his other hand holds the King to gravity and the weight of the thing don’t yank it out before James’s body is ready to adjust to the emptiness. 

Once he’s carefully eased the head out, Q throws the thing in the general direction of the shower to be dealt with later.  He immediately folds himself over James and wraps around him to offer shelter and anchorage until James relaxes beneath him.

Q locates a washrag to dampen with warm water in the sink then he moves to gently stroke away the slick mess of lube coating James’s crack, balls and upper thighs.  He’s surprised to see that the man’s cock is still half-hard when he himself has gone soft in his worry for James.  His gaze moves over the stretched out rim of James’s arse and he feels his desires simmer, but makes no move to act on them.

He gets a towel to carefully dry the skin that he’s wiped before he tosses the cloth aside and urges James out of the room.  He doesn’t bother shutting the light off as he guides James to the bed, tosses back the covers and pushes James to climb in.

“You’ve no need to mother me now,” James sits on the edge of the mattress, legs parting to pull Q between them.  “It was just a bit much.”

“I know,” Q moves into the circle of James arms and presses his mouth to the top of the man’s head as he slides his hands over James’s back. 

“Couldn’t come with all that pressing in me,” James continues like he feels a need to confess or explain, “and I wanted to come so badly.”

Q hums noncommittally at that, keeping his touch soothing until he feels James’s mouth against his chest and his hands moving to cups Q’s arse.

“I _want_ to come so badly, Q.”

Q goes still as the implication processes, aided by the way James shifts his hand around to fondle Q’s cock and balls until his shaft jerks with renewing arousal.  A breath shudders from him as Q realizes that James is far from done for the night.

“James,” he pulls back, thinking to protest or suggest something simple like a blowjob.

James tangles a hand in his hair and silences Q with the thrust of a tongue into his mouth.  At his urging, Q climbs up to straddle James’s lap on the bed as blood rushes to his cock with a dizzying urgency.

“Felt that thing,” James breaks away to twist and put Q down on the bedding, “so fake inside me.”

He comes down beside Q, stroking one hip with his hand while grinding his own renewed erection against the other.  Q turns to press his cock against James and rut until the scene in the bathroom is nearly forgotten by his little head.

“It was smooth, though,” James continues, “so smooth.  No condom,” he bites at Q’s neck and shifts to wrap a hand around Q’s cock.  “I want that,” he thumbs at the tip of Q’s shaft until a bead of moisture wells up from the slit.  “I want that with _you_.”

“Anything,” Q arches into the caress even as he frowns in confusion at the words.  “Want what?”

“No condom,” James moves quickly to cover Q’s mouth before any protest can be made.

Q’s mind can form no protest to that idea, though, even as he knows that it should.  He’d be a liar to say he hasn’t thought of it and wanted it and he can’t bring himself to deny either of them in this moment when James is so open literally and figuratively and Q just _needs_ to be filling him in any way that he can.  He scrambles one hand to grab at the back of James’s head and the other to dig into the taut curve of James’s arse.

“Yes,” he twists his mouth away to gasp out.  “Gods, yes.”

He bites at James’s lips before reclaiming them to shove his tongue in deep as he rolls a willing James on to his back.  He pulls back to look toward the nightstand and even makes an aborted move toward the drawer to get the lube, but James holds him back.

“Don’t need any more of that,” he parts his legs and pulls Q between them.  “Not getting any looser than this and I’ve never been slicker,” he reaches between their bodies to grasp Q’s cock and guide it to his hole.  “Just do it.”

As Q has said, his cock obeys only James and it does not hesitate to slide into that arse.  The channel is hot and moist around him, but looser than he’s grown accustomed to and he gasps at the feel of it on his bare cock.  He could curl in and come just from that, knowing that he’s as intimately joined with James as he can get, but he wants to feel more of James’s stretched out hole as the man’s writhes beneath him and tries to clench tightly around Q’s cock. 

“Christ,” he bites out against James’s chest.

He puts a hand between them to press his fingers against the slack rung of flesh around his cock then crooks his thumb to push in alongside his shaft.

“I want to fist you,” he confesses against the hollow of James’s throat.  “You can take it.  You could take it right now,” he rocks and grinds his cock gently in James’s arse.  “Just want to try it sometime.”

“Anything,” James bucks beneath him, legs spreading wider as he hooks a foot around Q’s calf for an anchor.  “Just give me your cock now.  Want your _come_ **_inside_** me.”

Any rational parts of Q’s brain that remain immediately black out at that sensually hissed request and Q shudders. 

He moves his hands to take hold of James hips as he shifts to kneel on the bed between those thick thighs.  Once repositioned, he puts his hands under those thighs to urge them up and back until James takes the hint and grabs hold of his legs to hold them open.  Q knows he should jam a few pillows beneath the man’s hips to ease some of the strain of the position, but he knows James won’t be holding the pose for long.

Q leans backward, grabbing his own ankles as he shifts his weight back on his heels for just the right angle for his thrusts.  James’s knuckles go white as his body jolts at the first brush of bare cock over the sensitive gland.  He thrashes and groans, chest straining upward as his head digs back against the bed when Q pushes over that spot again and again.   

Q stares at James’s thick cock, slapping neglected against the man’s belly as they bounce and fuck together.  James makes no move, though, to take it in hand to jerk himself off as Q likely would have done were their roles reversed.  He keeps his death grip on his own legs, bruising the flesh without a care as he does his part to aid Q in this rhythm that their finding together.

“Good boy,” Q murmurs without a thought, eyes fluttering with pleasure when James groans louder and his arse flexes down around Q’s cock.  “That’s it,” Q‘s head drops back as his body takes over to thrust blindly into the welcoming clasp.  “Tighten up, you tart.  Give us a good squeeze.”

His body bows even further backward as the words bubble out and James responds by swiveling his hips down against Q’s thrusts.  James rolls his hips slightly to the side, bringing his leg over Q’s arched torso to press bring his thighs tightly together.  The movements cause his arsehole to flex and tighten then the man grunts with a deliberate strain to make his pucker clench tightly closed around Q’s prick. 

Q gasps and bolts upright at the squeeze.  He takes a firm hold of the side of James’s thigh and pushes to press his legs flatter to the bed and twist James’s hips to an awkward angle for the man to maintain without rolling to his side. 

Q slips his cock out when James does just that, shifting to lay on his side.  Before either of them can bemoan the separation, Q’s hands urge James to keep turning until he’s laying face down on the bed. 

Q gets a pillow this time to shove under James’s stomach before he moves to straddle James’s arse. 

He gives the man a moment to shift to a comfortable position for his cock to grind against the cushion before Q digs his knees into the mattress on either side of James’s thighs to keep those legs pressed closed.  His hands move to pry James’s cheeks apart then he guides his cock back into that hole with one quick stroke.  He falls forward to brace his palms flat against the bed as he begins to fuck himself hard and fast into James’s arse while the man fists the covers and groans like a wounded thing beneath him. 

James is fucking back against him, though, as much as the position allows.  He ruts against the pillow and begins to beg so prettily that Q snaps above him, dropping to bite at the side of James’s neck as his cock presses deep to spill in James’s arse. 

He knows the moment that James joins him in climax from the way the man’s squirming stutters to a sudden stop and he chokes out a cry before shuddering apart beneath Q. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending feels a bit of a hanger, I'm sure, but it is as complete as my muses feel this particular installment to be. While each part can hopefully stand alone, I find myself wanting the overall series to ultimately fall together as individual pieces of the 00Q puzzle. ;)
> 
> And a serious note from the author to all readers: sometimes that hurt so good can hurt too good and it takes a stronger person to cry stop than it does a fool to suffer through and lose some of the true pleasure that can be had. In other words, if the sensations overwhelm you, remember to breathe, even if you have to breakaway to do it. Even Bond knows when to tapout when he's safe with a partner like Q.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally discovered "King Dong"[HERE](http://www.adameve.com/adult-sex-toys/dildo-sex-toys/giant-dildos/sp-king-dong-dildo-8531.aspx) and mentioned him in Part 1 of this series. For this installment I went straight to the manufacturer website to get more specific product details [HERE](http://www.docjohnson.com/dongs-dildos/w-balls/the-great-american-challenge.html) and turns out it's actually called "The Great American Challenge." Anyone curious about Q's butt plug can find that [HERE.](http://www.sextoy.com/Bed-Knob-Buddy---Small---Flesh/sku-CNVTSX-21309011)
> 
> James was supposed to be first in this, but I really can't argue with the way it played out once typed. What my Q wants, my Q gets. James's POV will hopefully be ready this weekend, but I'll be honest - I've not even begun writing it. I have ideas, though. GODS do I have ideas!


End file.
